Thank You For Not Loving Me
by Waiting To Be Broken
Summary: Sam is sick of being only a way to relieve the tension for Dean. He is tired of fighting. What he wants is just one kiss, is that so much to ask?


Thank You For Not Loving Me

Sam slowly opened his eyes and looked around. His brother was nowhere in sight and his bed was made. Yeah, his bed, even though they had that thing between them they still booked hotel rooms with 2 beds. "How can I bring a chick here for a quickie if I'm sharing a king size bed with a man?" had once said Dean, half joking, half serious. And Sam hadn't had any rights to opposite him because they weren't into a real relationship. There was no kissing, no hugging, no snuggling in the afterglow. It was just animal sex, no feelings involved. And when he thought about it, it wasn't so bad- not sharing a bed with his brother. At least he didn't have to lay where Dean had fucked his one-stands, to smell their perfume all over his pillow.

Dean walked in and he let himself smile, just a little. Maybe today would be different, maybe he would finally be set free. Sam went into a sitting position and reached to kiss the other, but was roughly pushed back and his brother quickly got on top of him. Ignoring the burning pain in his chest, he really had to be used by now, he let Dean undress them both. When they were naked and Dean was getting ready to enter him he tried again, hoping, arching to feel his brother's lips on his. Just one kiss and he would be saved, just once. But he was denied the freedom that simple act of love would bring, the other moved away and entered him with one swift move.

"Dean," he moaned quietly, when he felt the familiar burn, pain mixed with pleasure.

"Shut up," was hissed back.

No sweet talking, just the sound of two bodies rubbing against each other in a sacred dance. No moans, only grunts filled the air. But no matter how animal the act was Sam soon felt the burn in his belly and reached to wrap his arms around his brother's neck, needing that single intimacy. And again his attempt for gentleness was dismissed, his hands held tight over his head. He arched his back, shivering when he felt Dean hit his prostate.

"Brother," he moaned when he reached his climax. He felt the other get wax as semen filled him. Instead of relaxing in the afterglow he freed his arms and hugged the other man, knowing that was the only moment when Dean wasn't strong enough to push him away. He breathed into the unique, unscathed... pure scent of his brother.

"Please don't leave me," he almost sobbed, praying with all his might for Dean to choose him over some random chick, to save him, just this once. His brother was silent and his heart arched, too afraid to hope, too scared of rejection. But then he was pushed away and without another word Dean got up. He cleaned himself with a tissue and dressed.

"You should dress too. I'm bringing a chick over later."

Sam nodded, suddenly feeling empty, despite the warmth inside of him. Tears were building in his eyes but he swallowed them, already used to hiding his feelings. He didn't move, not until the heavy steps of his brother faded away. Then he rolled into a ball, clutching his stomach. He felt sick, like he was about to throw up. Waves of pain hit him, short but methodical. It was like that every day and he supposed it was just a side effect but he couldn't be sure, because he didn't know anyone in his position. He doubled in pain, the burning becoming unbearable. He ran to the toilet and vomited, painting it red. It was weird how his body seemed to remember, although no one else could.

An hour later Dean came back and found him on the bed, rolled into a ball, hands clutching his stomach. He didn't pay attention to that though years later every time he remembered it he blamed himself for not noticing.

"Excuse my brother, it seems it's his time of the month," he apologized, mock in his voice, to a sexy blond behind him. Sam slowly stood up, as if in pain, making cum run down his thigh. When he saw that Dean turned his head in disgust. The girl with him, however, didn't seem to notice, she was too caught up in staring at the taller man's chest and package.

"Can he join us?" she asked, almost drooling at the mere thought. But before Dean could even hiss a cold remark, Sam had left the room, clothes in his hand. Once outside he slid to the floor. He already could hear the soft moans and feel them stabbing his heart. He hugged his knees and buried his head in his arms. He wanted to leave but it was like his feet were made of metal and the floor was a big magnet. He was going to be sick but he knew he had to be there, that was one of his punishments for doing a sin, years ago. And now he was marked, his scars laid there bare and ugly for everyone to see.

The moans became louder and Sam, the freak he was after so many years studying his brother, knew that he was close. He closed his eyes, trying to bloke the pictures floating into his mind when the girl screamed for a last time. Then there was silence, only the rush of clothes could be heard and he decided that it was time for him to dress as well. He got up from the floor and started putting his clothes with trembling hands. Minutes later the door opened and the blond girl from before appeared. She threw him an amused look and then winked. Ignoring completely her behavior, he pushed the whore out of the way and entered the room.

Dean was on his own bed, back turned toward him, cleaning his gun. When Sam entered he didn't do anything to show that he had sensed it, not even flinch. The younger laid on his bed, silently. His shirt rode up a little and he instinctively reached to hide the scars, but when his fingers touched his stomach he changed his mind and dig his nails in the bare skin. Pain- breathtaking, sweet pain- washed through him and he sighed. It was the only thing that answered the question in his head, implanted there so many days ago - "Am I still alive?"

"Dean," he whispered, loud enough to be heard but too quiet to show the hurt. His brother didn't turn around but it was alright, he was used to talking to his back." I love you." Three words whispered. Words meaning everything... and nothing. Because how can they have any meaning when they came from a broken soul, when they were said with a voice, trembling from the held back tears?

"I can't change that as I can't change the fact that you don't feel the same. I'm not stupid, I know that you use me to relieve the tension, that I'm just a fuck, available 24/7. And I know I have to hate you for the pain you are causing me, the pain you'll continue to cause me. But I can't, maybe I really am a bitch as you like to say, but I can't hate the only person who keeps me sane, the one for whom I'm ready to give my life without hesitation. I know what I'm about to do is selfish but I can't live this life anymore, I can't wake up every day praying that just this one time a miracle would happen and you will look at me the way I do. I've been doing this for years and I'm tired. I just want it to be over. But no matter how hard I try it never ends, I'm never free. But it isn't too late for you, Dean. Promise me, if you ever find someone who loves you half the way I do, promise me you'll hold on them with all your might. Screw the hunting, it will turn you into an emotionless killing machine, have an apple-pie life! Please, brother."

Hands painted red, tears running down his cheeks. He closed his eyes hoping that it would stop them and willed himself to breathe normally. Words he knew by heart... Sometimes he wondered, did he love his brother anymore, did he really want to fight for him, or was it just out of habit. Was he so used to the pain that he was searching for it?

Dean, who had been still the whole time, threw the gun on the bed and with quick step went to Sam.

"Are you fucking leaving me?" he almost screamed, his fingers curling around his brother's jawline and tugging at it roughly so their eyes could meet. Sam slowly opened his eyes, tears gathered there were set free.

"I can't. Whatever I do, whenever I go you'll always be there"

Dean uncurled his digits. His gaze was still cold but he seemed satisfied with the answer. He turned but five words made him spin so fast that he reeled. "But I will try anyway" was what startled him so much.

"What?" he whispered dangerously.

Sam just shook his head to no one in particular. He wasn't scared. He had faced the death so many times so why would he be afraid of his brother."Would you kiss me?" he breathed, closing his eyes again, not wanting to see the rejection and the disgust. His hands slipped under the pillow and curled around a familiar object he had put there as if million years ago. There was that sound of something harshly cutting the air and he supposed that Dean had been about to hit him. But no pain followed so it seemed like his brother had changed his mind

"How can I kiss my brother?" Disgust was dripping from his voice.

"But you can fuck him?" It wasn't a complain, nor it was an insult. Just a statement. Fight gone, courage gathered, he opened his eyes. There were no tears in them anymore, but pain was still shining.

"What the..." started Dean but when he saw the knife that his brother had pulled out from under his pillow his voice changed. "What is with the knife, Sammy?"

His words were missing their usual harshness, he had even called him Sammy but his eyes... his eyes couldn't conceal the fact that he was already thinking how to disarm him. He was watching him like he watched the things they hunted - like a disgusting, unpredictable creature. His muscles were stiff and he was ready to attack.

Sam wanted to close his eyes, he didn't want that look to be the last thing he saw but he forced himself not to drop the other's gaze. He dragged the blade of the weapon through his stomach, painting it red with blood. The coldness making him shiver, from anticipation or fear he didn't know.

"Thank you," he whispered, letting a cold smile slip on his lips. Something tugged him behind the stomach, as if telling him he shouldn't change the events but he ignore it. He had done it before- an extra touch, or an extra word- it was never able to change his destiny. Dean moved his gaze from the knife to his face. His fear was no longer hidden but he still didn't try to stop him. Sam took a breath, a single tear rolled down his cheek, his thousand times broken heart- breaking again, and if the younger Winchester was able to see the remains he would never tell the difference between them and simple ashes."Thank you for not loving me. It makes my decision a lot easier."

Then with one swift move he stabbed himself in the stomach. And all came to him at once- the burning pain when the blade collided with skin, marking it yet again, the blood leaving his body, the darkness that was slowly swallowing him, the muted screams of his brother, the fear and the panic when he was telling him that everything will be okay, that he won't die. With his last powers he opened his mouth, blood sliding from his mouth, the familiar tug, that appeared every time he was about to say something that he wasn't meant to, mixing with the pain. "Death is not the greatest of evils Dean," he whispered and then choked on his own blood. "It's worse to want to die and not be able to."

He closed his eyes, letting the darkness take him... only to open them seconds later.

It was said that those who committed suicide were fated to endure the same day over and over. Some of them didn't even notice it but others like Sam were aware of that fact. But little did they know that it wasn't a punishment, that their mind and body remembered so they could change their fate. And because they didn't know they continued to go around in that magic circle, causing pain to themselves and the ones who loved them. Some were able to break the chain but most of them ended up in the asylum. But Sammy... he was different, after that particular day he changed. Not once did he try to save himself, nor did he utter an extra word, he went through it calmly almost with apathy, waiting for the world to end so he could finally rest in peace.

And because he never saw tomorrow he didn't hear how Dean was pleading him to live, he didn't feel how his big brother was rocking his lifeless body, kissing his lips, knowing that they would never move against his. He didn't see Dean, the proud hunter, begging angels and demons to bring his Sammy back. But no one could save him, because Sam was still on Earth, in a place worse than Hell- where the one he loved the most didn't care about him.

So he had to continue living, hunting, praying that someday he would be reckless and something would kill him, take him out of his misery. But it never happened, he was too good. Years later he found a woman- a petite brown-haired girl that reminded him of Sammy. She was strong and when she had to she was ready to fight for the ones she loved. She liked to make the things go her way with sweet talking and sometimes with her cute puppy eyes. And just like Sammy, at first she was insecure about their relationship so he did everything to prove her that he was only hers. He stopped hunting, found himself a decent job and married her.

But even after their first child was born, even then every time when he was with her he couldn't help but wonder "what if". What if he had stopped Sammy, what if he had kissed him, just once... what if he hadn't treated him like trash. Would they still be together? Would they have what he had now- family, home.. life. Then he remembered what his brother had told him- "Thank you for not loving me" and he answered his questions. He answered them just like Sam would if he saw his life - No, because you don't realise how important is something for you before you lose it.

A/N Well, this is something that have been in my head for a loong long time but I always ignored it because I didn't like how sad it was. But a few days ago I told myself 'Hey, it isn't like someone is going to read it". So I wrote it. And I hope you had read the story before you read that because if you hadn't... well you would find out I'm a crappy writer too soon XD. Well, that's all I had to say I think... Oh yeah, I don't own Supernatural and I'm not Sophocles ("Death is not the greatest of evils. It's worse to want to die and not be able to.")


End file.
